Extra Katya & Dimitri Content!!
Vol. 1, Chapter 23: Dimitri’s POV
What the-
With a startle, I rip the earbud out as a high-pitched screech rips through my phone. Geez, do some people not realize they don’t have the voice to sing tenor? I usually like Ethan’s song requests but this one is beyond my patience. I swallow hard to pop my eardrums before shuffling my regular – much gentler – Sterling Silver playlist. The rich notes of the cello are balm to my bleeding ears. To the soothing sound, I return to my sketchbook, plucking out the colored pencils like the strings of a guitar. Getting lost in drawing like this almost feels like another dimension.
But I still feel it with stunning clarity when Katya’s signature energy enters the studio.
Recognizing her presence right away, I glance up, expecting red panic and pain, but her delicate blue is like a wave of calm over me, even as my heart flutters pink.
Knowing the unnatural blush color is seeping into my eyes, I push on my glasses as she comes closer.
“Hello again. Didn’t think you’d be stopping by the art studio anymore,” I feign a casual tone over the hopeful pounding in my chest.
Katya smiles brightly. “Nah, I decided to venture through the gates of hell one more time, though this place must be a paradise to you. What are you listening to?”
“Oh,” I click on my phone. “My regular playlist. Most of it’s Sterling Silver.”
“Sterling Silver,” she repeats, her eyes gleaming with the same. “Why does that sound familiar to me?"
"’It's the band I told you about at the ice rink.” I hope she doesn’t notice the dip in my voice – I’m not surprised but still a little disappointed she hasn’t listened to it yet after I told her.
“Oh. Remind me to check them out again,” she says and it suddenly seems that she doesn’t notice anything about me at all. I don’t know which pain cuts deeper – that or the sharp stab Destiny slices through my chest reminding me it’s not my place to be noticed by her, to remind her I’m here, that I see her if she would only look. Sometimes, it feels like she can look right into the depths of my heart; other times, like she’s looking right through me. We’ve been friendly since the project ended but distant – no reason to interact beyond the simple “Hello.” It’s what it should be, according to Destiny. What it ever was and what it ever will be.
And I know it’s pathetic and desperate but just the tiniest moments when she smiles or waves to me makes it a little easier. A little easier to get through the days that oversaturate my senses, through the chapters that trap my storyline. A little easier to accept what can never be, who can never be mine.
But now Katya clasps her hands behind her back to hide how much she twists her blue gem bracelet and makes it even harder to accept it, to let it go, to turn it down.
“So, I actually do have a reason for coming here today, that isn’t physics. I wanted to invite you to sit with my friends and me at lunch. You always sit here alone, so I figured, maybe you’d like to join us.”
Oh.
Not what I expected.
I force myself past the disappointment that maybe I wanted her to simply come and stay with me here for a while, the two of us alone, where we both can be the most honest versions of ourselves.
But what am I thinking? She has a boyfriend. Forget any supernatural barriers, she’s literally dating someone else. Someone normal. As much as I can’t stand Sean and can’t stand the thought of him being with her when he doesn’t deserve her, it’s not like I can say with a clear conscience that I deserve her either.
I swallow hard and have to avert my eyes, spotted red and grey. “Katya, I really don’t know. I haven’t been there all year. I wouldn’t know anybody, even any friends you’d introduce me to,” I anticipate her next argument.
Her smile drops and her aura clouds over, a dusty pink I always let myself believe is because of her boyfriend – not because she’s standing so close to me now, because if I let my hopes go there, I don’t know if I’ll ever recover, whether I’m wrong or right.
“You’d know me,” she says and it’s because it’s so true that I have to refuse. I already know her – more than she knows me, more than she’ll ever know me. Definitely far too much than I should know about her – I don’t want to know her through my psychic senses, but I can’t switch them off. It’s not a choice; I never had a choice.
“Are you sure?” she asks. “Even if just for today, I’d appreciate it if you came. Please, Dimitri?”
And maybe I don’t have a choice. And maybe I’m dreaming of things I know can’t be true, and hoping too hard about them might destroy me, but in moments like these, with her wide sparkling eyes gazing into mine that she may never know the color of, I think that – just maybe – she might choose me.
“Alright.”
Katya and I don’t really talk as we walk down toward the cafeteria. I’m still convincing myself to do this, but I don’t want to pass up the chance to spend some more time with her, no matter how futile. As we walk, side by side, I can tell she’s watching me; it’s like every one of my nerve endings is alive and aware to her attention.
Once we reach the cafeteria, I take a deep breath I hope she doesn’t notice to steel myself for the deluge of sensory overload I already know awaits me.
I open the door and follow Katya inside.
Right away, a wall of colors and voices slams into me, nearly knocking me off-balance. Gossip and study tips and homework help and food complaints – good to know not to eat the spaghetti – and oh yeah, did I mention gossip. I blink hard several times to clear my vision, watercolors still spilling over my peripheral.
I almost lose track of Katya standing next to me when she points, “We sit over there.” Great, it’s in the middle.
I need to get out, break out, take a break, take a breath, breathe in and out, get out. This is too much.
Then I feel Katya’s eyes on me again and I pull myself together because nobody normal would have this sort of reaction to a lunchroom. Raking a hand through my hair and adjusting my glasses, I allow myself one last moment of anxiety before I step forward, masking the doubts and vulnerabilities as I always do when anyone is watching.
Katya steers me toward her table, introducing me cheerfully. “Hey everyone. This is Dimitri. Dimitri, this is everyone: Brooke, Keith, Eric, and you know Veronica from class.”
Among other places, I meet Veronica’s skittish eyes.
Before anyone can move, I give a collective wave to avoid as much touch as possible. Still, Keith extends his hand.
“Nice to meet you,” he says, friendly, but I still stumble a beat before I shake his hand, the contact welcoming but glaring as his yellow aura stings me. Katya notices my brief hesitation but is too busy shushing Brooke for saying something I already hear in her thoughts and in her brazen pink aura that makes my face flush nearly as pink.
“Dimitri’s my friend from physics. He’ll be sitting with us for a while.”
A spike of panicked red flares from Veronica. She meets my gaze, flustered, before dropping her eyes to her food. She knows I know. She doesn’t know what I’ll tell Katya, which is nothing. Katya may trust me, but I don’t think she would believe me if I told her about Sean – she may have some doubts about him, but she’d get angrier at me. I can’t replicate the bond she has with Veronica, with any of the others at this table now.
They may as well be looking through me as I sit on the side, the outsider to their inside jokes – this feels like fifth grade all over again. At one point, Eric starts explaining a new skateboarding trick he’s mastered; actually, I’m impressed.
The girls, not so much.
“No way, Eric. It’s not even physically possible,” Katya argues. Then I feel her self-conscious stab of guilt as her eyes flick to me, and it seems as if there’s an impassable canyon between us instead of the opposite side of a high school lunch table. “Right, Dimitri? What do you think?”
I think that all I want is for the two of us to be back in the art studio.
“Ooh, yeah. I forgot we’ve got our very own genius at the table with us today,” Brooke touches my arm with a suggestive smile; I want to rip off my skin.
Ignoring her – as easy as it is to ignore a thorn poking you in the side – I try to explain the validity behind Eric’s skateboard trick. There’s true physics to the explanation, but most of it I know from experience.
Alright, maybe I was a little too heavy on the physics part, as they stare at me blankly.
“Uh, yeah. Cool,” Eric says in a tone that sounds anything but, then he returns to the conversation at the rest of the table.
Nobody else says a word to me after that, not even Katya though I can’t blame her – we’re at odd angles across from each other, so it’s not like we can talk to each other without being heard by the rest of the table. Not like when we sat alone in the studio, side by side, voices hushed, heads ducked close together that sometimes her hair would brush against my arm, testing my boundaries to inch closer to her. I long so much to be back there with her. As the rest of the table chatters around me – through me – my thoughts roam to the days Katya and I sat at the paint-splattered tables, the most at ease I’ve felt since coming to Zenovian. It wasn’t effortless – Destiny kept reminding me who she is to me, and I had to work to hide the psychic parts of myself from her – but she made it worth it. She made it easier.
But sitting in the middle of this table, in the middle of the cafeteria, in the middle of so many people I know too much about even though they don’t know anything about me – they may not even know me at all – it’s so hard.
Then I spot a soothing pulse of jade green weaving through the cafeteria, and it gets easier again. My breathing evens out and a relieved smile already spreads on my face as Katya says, “Oh yeah. There’s one more person at our table for you to meet. That’s-”
“Juliet,” I get to my feet, nearly with a sigh of relief, everyone else fading away – even Katya – Juliet a calming beacon in the overwhelming crowd. When she spots me, Juliet dashes over with a huge, surprised grin.
“Oh my gosh, Dimitri! Hi,” she hugs me tight, and I effortlessly put an arm around her too, her embrace a solace.
“You two know each other?” Katya’s voice suddenly pipes up behind me. She’s watching us with an aura I can’t distinguish, the colors all mixed up.
Juliet laughs, the sound clear as a bell and her jade green aura pristine. “Of course. We’re in art together. This guy’s the best artist you’ll ever meet,” she says and when I start to protest, she interrupts, “Oh shush, you know you’re awesome. I didn’t even know you had this lunch period. What, have you been sitting alone in the art studio all this time?”
I should have known she would know; she always does when it comes to me.
Juliet being here is like a lifeline thrown to me. She squeezes next to me, her aura brushing up against me like a serene touch, and the noise around me mutes. Everything is so much easier now.
And then, when I glance at Katya, in a moment when her eyes are averted and she’s not looking at me, I can’t help but wonder, why it can’t be as easy with her?
***
Vol. 1, Chapter 24: Juliet’s POV
It’s so easy around Dimitri.
He weaves through the stacks of Narratio Nostra, slotting away the books that shipped today. I “help” him, handing him up armfuls of novels at a time, after I’d already taken my pick at them.
“Ooh, this one looks good,” I read the summary on the back of a gorgeous romantasy paperback. The edges are sprayed with a rose pattern, and the enemies-to-lovers high fae plot sounds intriguing. “Remind me to get this the next time I’m here.”
“You sure you don’t want to add it to the collection now,” Dimitri gestures to the pile of books I’ve already acquired.
“Ah, why not?” I can’t resist and toss it onto the counter with the rest.
“You’re going to single-handedly buy out this whole shipment,” Dimitri laughs, and it gives me a funny tingle in my stomach. I love hearing Dimitri laugh; he does it so rarely that it’s such a special sound.
“Have you read some of these books? You work at a bookstore, so I don’t see how you can keep yourself from reading, especially you. Still, even for you, this is a lot.” He’s always got his nose in a book, so still, I don’t underestimate him.
“I’ve probably read a lot of them actually,” he unsurprisingly confirms my musings. “I guess it’s like you say – instinct.”
We finish up the last box of historical fiction books, clearing out the rest of the shipment.
“I like it here,” I say, hopping onto the counter he goes behind to stash the flattened boxes he cut up. “It’s nice and quiet. Pretty. Always smells like tea and paper. And I get to hang out with you.” Definitely the best part.
He peeks out from the cabinet and grins at me, looking adorable with a cobweb tangled in his curls. I have a slight obsession with his springy hair and can’t resist brushing the web and lint out of his thick waves.
“You’ve got dust all over you.”
“Ah, I think it got in my eyes too,” he takes off his glasses, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand. Blinking, his blue eyes look a little bleary but brighter.
“Better?”
“Better,” he says. He doesn’t put the glasses back on, but that’s not surprising since he never draws with them on anyway. I can’t decide if he looks better with them or without, he’s always so cute.
Suddenly, I avert my gaze and glance out the window, startled I’m thinking of him this way. Except, am I really that surprised? I’ve always liked Dimitri, since he sat next to me in art on the first day of school this semester. He’s obviously attractive: tall, slim but still seems strong, a kind but sharp face, wise eyes painted in a palette of blues and greens, and of course, his hair. But he’s also the sweetest, smartest guy I know; it’s so effortless with him.
So maybe that’s why I’m more nervous than I expected when I start to ask something I’d already planned on asking him anyway, “So hey. I’ve got two tickets to the art exhibition down at the museum. I go every year, but this would be your first time. It’s where a bunch of local artists exhibit their work, usually something relatable and familiar – like last year, there was a landscape of a carnival held at the town park. It’s a pretty cool exhibition. Would you be interested in going with me? It’s next Saturday at ten.”
His face lights up, but then his eyebrows draw together, a little crease forming in his forehead. Wow, since when have I started to notice every little detail about him? Like the way he knocks back a stray, longer curl wisping next to his lips that – oh my God, am I actually staring at his lips?
I force my eyes up.
“Next Saturday?” he repeats. “I can’t: Math Team competition. It’s at Ridgeway High this time, so it’s sort of far away, and the earliest we’ll be back is – maybe – two, two-thirty. I’m so sorry.”
His eyes seem to darken in disappointment, and I smile to let him know it’s okay. I know how much Math Team means to him, how much the team needs him; he’s their star competitor.
“Oh, it’s no problem,” I wave it off, disappointed more that I wasn’t able to ask him earlier than him not being able to go now. “It’s pretty sudden anyway, but we just got the tickets yesterday. Don’t worry about it; the team needs you. And now I know to wish you good luck too.”
“Thanks,” he says timidly, twirling a pencil on the counter. “So now I have to ask you: if you were taking part in the show, what would you draw?”
“Hmm, good question. You know I love drawing flowers, so probably the garden beds outside the elementary school. What would you do? You could do something to play with light, or portraits – you’re really good at portraits. You could do a typical day here.” The afternoon sun streams through the large window, lighting up half of Dimitri’s face, the other half in the shade. “Customers, sunlight – you could totally pull it off.”
He gives a simple shrug, a lift of his slender shoulder. “Maybe.” He looks like he’s lost in thought for a moment, a sketch already forming in his mind, and I wish I could read that beautiful mind of his; sometimes it seems like he can read mine.
Abruptly, he wipes the counter clean with his sweater sleeve and shifts his weight as if to spring into action.
“I almost forgot: Ms. Silva asked me to do some cleaning here a while ago, and I found,” he rummages in a nearby drawer, “something I thought you would like- aha, here.”
He hands me a little, dusty wooden box; I take it from him curiously.
“What’s this?” I pry the lid open. “Are these- no way. These are the best chalk pastels ever made; I’ve been trying to get my hands on ones like these for months!”
“Well,” Dimitri leans against the counter, arms crossed casually across his chest with a shy, satisfied smile. “Now you have them.”
I whip my gaze back to him, stunned and slack jawed. “You’re serious? For me?”
“Yes,” he says simply, as if he hadn’t just gifted me what I’ve wanted for nearly a year. “I know how much you love charcoal and pastel drawing; you can put these to amazing use.”
“Well, wha- what about you?” I stammer.
His smile widens and my heart melts even more. “Have you seen me with a piece of charcoal? These would be a total waste in my hands; they’re yours. Besides, if I wanted them, I would have kept them, but I thought of you the whole time.”
Okay, the guy creates a masterpiece with whatever he touches to a canvas, but I appreciate it nevertheless and throw my arms around him without thinking.
“Thank you, you are so incredible.”
“I’m glad you like them.” I hear the smile in his voice as he hugs me back, his arms strong and warm and I kind of want to stay here forever.
“I love them,” I tell him, but the scary part is that in my mind, I’m saying “you.”
***
Vol. 1, After Chapter 45
“Here you are,” Dimitri pulls up by my drive.
“Thanks a lot,” I grin and glance over at him. Even though he smiles too, it seems tight and sad, and he’s seemed more quiet than usual since we left the bookstore.
I nudge his arm. “You okay?”
Dimitri adjusts his glasses and sifts a hand through his hair in his nervous habit. “Yes. Yeah, I’m fine,” he says hesitantly. He gives me a quarter smile that doesn’t totally reach his blue-gray eyes, and he shrugs, a little lift of his slim shoulder. “I’m just a little embarrassed about getting your gift wrong.”
“Oh,” I wave it off with a laugh. “That’s nothing. I’m glad you thought to get me anything at all. You can always give it to me later; I had a really great time with you today anyway.”
He timidly peers out from under his fringe of wavy hair. “Me too.”
Our hands work their way gently into each other’s, our fingers intertwining playfully. Since we kissed, our relationship has changed into something more; it feels right to finally call him my boyfriend and it actually makes butterflies flutter in my stomach to think of him that way.
But besides a quick peck on the cheek, we also haven’t kissed since then, and I really want us to, especially since the thrill of the moment makes the memory a little hazy; I want to remember and savor every detail about him.
“Eh,” Dimitri rakes a hand through his hair again and glances over the rims of his glasses at me before he smiles, always so shy and reserved but it makes his smiles all the more special. “I do have one more surprise for you. Close your eyes.”
I do and feel the cool air move around me as I hear him take a deep breath before his lips meet mine, and I kiss him back without hesitation. Even though it’s so easy to get lost in the kiss alone, I pay particular attention to the way his fingers tip my chin up, his other hand gently against my neck, the way his soft exhale becomes my air, the way his longer curls tickle against my cheek when he leans forward closer, the way his lips press against mine, soft as a cloud and sugary sweet and something deeper, more intimate and tender.
I’m breathless by the time we pull back, foreheads still touching. His eyes are indigo and gazing straight into mine. I trace a finger along my lips, feeling them tingle.
“Wow,” I gasp softly. “That was the best birthday gift ever.”
****
The chatter in the hallway hums like untuned static in my ears, distorted and jumbled. The loud clang of the slamming locker doors does nothing to help, the noise banging on my brain, my head already suffering from a bad migraine as is. It’s a really sunny day, which makes the weather beautiful but also makes me squint and wince in pain, the light way too blindingly bright. Add to it the radiant glow of auras as the school corridors get crowded before the first bell, it hurts to keep my eyes open.
I can sense her before I see her but can’t match the energy to her, so I nearly jump out of my skin when Katya comes up to me, giving me a peck on the cheek.
“Hey, sweetie – oh, what’s the matter? Did I scare you?”
I force a smile, genuinely happy to see her – the calm pale blue of her aura is delicate but still far too harsh for my senses today. “No. Well, maybe a little.”
“You okay?” she tilts my face towards hers with a frown. “Dima, you look like hell this morning.”
“I’m fine,” I try to reassure her, but with the look she gives me, she’s not having it. “Alright, fine,” I sigh, “I’m not fine.”
“What’s the matter?” she asks, concerned.
I slump against my locker, the metal cool against my back. “I am so tired,” I admit. “I’m exhausted, my head hurts so bad, and I just really, really don’t feel well.”
A loud crowd pushes through the hall and makes me wince, the sound exponentially amplified by my pounding head.
“Oh, Dima,” Katya says, eyebrows drawn. Her hand hovers above my arm, as if she wants to comfort me but hesitates to trigger my senses. Despite the burn, I put my hand over hers and hold on, her touch my solace in the storm.
“Is it psychic-related?” she asks, her voice low and quiet.
I nod.
For the past months, I’ve been trying to build up my psychic shields to better manage my powers. It’s been a lot of trial and error, getting used to dialing them up or down as needed. They’re very effective when they work properly, but I’m still really clumsy at adjusting them and maintaining them, so I too often let them slip too soon or too far. There’s a brutal learning curve to it – it’s definitely helping me a lot in managing the powers, but only when I can do it successfully. Clearly, today I’ve failed miserably.
“The shields are working great,” I tell Katya, “but they’re hard to control and I’m still not good at it. It’s the worst when I think they’re set up correctly and then they just crash, because then the powers overwhelm me completely and I don’t have any strength left to build the walls back up. That’s pretty much what’s happening now.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed up you so much,” Katya starts blaming herself but I shake my head to stop her.
“No, I’m glad you did,” I reassure her. “My entire life, I’ve been fighting for some control over my powers. For the first time now, I’ve been able to get some, and yeah, there are some days like today that make me feel awful, but for the most part, it’s a good thing. I’m glad you convinced me to do this.”
“Really?” she asks unsurely.
I nod, her gentle blue enough to shut the rest of the world out for a moment for me to take a breath and lean in closer. “It’s let me do this,” I meet her lips with mine in a deep kiss.
****
“Can I come in?” Dimitri peers into my room with a tentative smile and a box of donuts, and I can’t lie that seeing the donuts makes me nearly as happy as seeing him.
Dimitri must see it in my aura (or just plainly on my face) and laughs as he sits down next to me on the bed. “I think I have some competition for your heart.”
“Not for my heart, but for my stomach, yes,” I grin and dive into a strawberry frosting donut with sprinkles.
“And I thought they said it was the way to a man’s heart, not a woman’s?”
“Not yours, when you eat, like, nothing,” I tease him and he takes a proud bite of a chocolate donut to prove me wrong.
Jokes aside, Dima’s eyes turn a hazel brown, brows drawn in concern. “How are you feeling?”
“It’s just a sprain,” I gingerly roll my ankle that suffered a bad twist earlier today in practice. The doctor said it’s not particularly injured but I should still take it easy. Definitely no triple axels. The timing sucks; it’s not going to get better before Worlds, so I’ll have to withdraw.
“But it’s still enough to take you out of the competition,” Dima says, echoing my thoughts that he can probably hear anyway.
“Yeah, that part stings,” I admit, picking out a jelly-filled donut from the box. “But this makes up for it.”
“No, it doesn’t,” he says knowingly.
“Okay,” I tug him to me by his shirt collar, tilting his chin down. “Then you make up for it.”
I kiss him hard, chasing the peace and solace he brings me instead of the disappointment churning inside me, and it starts to work for a moment before he pulls away.
“Huh,” I make a small sound of protest but I see his eyes have turned green and bright. “What?”
“I can,” he says, inspired. “I can make up for it.”
“Uh, yeah, so why did you stop kissing me?”
“Because I can do something better.”
I raise my eyebrows suggestively, enjoying the pink blush I paint on his cheeks as he rolls his eyes but ducks his head shyly.
“Not what I had in mind right now,” he corrects me and clears his throat, face composing to serious again. “What I did mean: Katya, I can heal.”
I sit up straighter, realizing what he’s saying. “Wait, really? You would do it? But doesn’t it really weaken you? I don’t want to do that to you.”
“I can try,” he says earnestly, believing. “I think I can pull it off.”
“But what if it hurts you?” I hesitate, knowing he still struggles with his powers. And healing is his weakest skill; I don’t want him to stake too much on this.
“It can’t hurt more than it hurts you,” he insists. “Come on, please, I can help.”
“Okay,” I agree and stretch out my leg so he can work his magic, his green hope contagious.
He puts his palm around my ankle, eyes vivid green like the inside of a jungle before he closes them in concentration. At first, I feel nothing besides a usual tingle of excitement at his touch, but eventually, a soft, soothing heat starts working its way into my skin, like the physical manifestation of Dima’s healing green eyes, and the pain lessens. I catch a breath of wonder and relief.
Then I see Dimitri wince, drawing his hand back sharply as if jolted with an electric shock, and the connection breaks.
“Agh,” he pinches between his eyebrows, visibly in pain.
“Dima?”
“I’m alright, just give me a second,” he reassures, taking a few deep breaths. “I’m okay. Did- did it help? Did I do anything?”
“Yeah, you just tired yourself out,” I push his hair away and touch his face that’s gone pale. “Let me see your eyes.”
“Katya, I’m fine,” he blinks quickly and tries to avoid my gaze but I can still catch a glimpse of red in his eyes. “What about you?”
I test out my ankle, the pain slightly relieved but still throbbing dully and swollen. Meeting his crestfallen eyes, I shake my head sadly.
Dimitri sighs. “I’m sorry,” he starts but I cut him off.
“Don’t be. You tried, and now it’s going to take a toll on you too. I’ll be okay, even if it’ll take a while.”
“But you’ll miss Worlds.”
“So I will. There’s always next season.”
He looks down at his hands with dark brown eyes, as if he failed.
“Hey,” I tip his face up to mine. “It’s alright. Thank you for trying. And for the donuts.”
A tiny smile lifts his lips and I kiss them softly, sweetly until his smile widens. I wrap my arms around his neck as his kiss travels across my cheek, down my jaw, finally resting by my ear.
“Do you think,” he whispers deviously, “that I can make up for it the other way?”